


Five Times Draco Needed a Hug, and One Time Ron Did

by Calacious



Series: Comfort in November and December 2020 [34]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family Angst, Family Fluff, Hugs, Love, M/M, Permanent Injury, Some Swearing, Surrogacy mentioned, loss of limb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: Being in a relationship with one of your former nemeses is not easy, but anything worth having never is. (Or, a story about Draco and Ron getting together and dealing with their families, and everything that comes along with falling in love.)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Series: Comfort in November and December 2020 [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996825
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	1. Meeting the Family

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the comfortember prompt: Hugs

“You’re sure your family’s okay with me being there tonight?” Draco asks for the tenth time, and Ron gives him an exasperated look.

Instead of answering this time, Ron wraps his arms around Draco and hugs him until Draco relaxes in his arms. “It doesn’t matter if they want you there or not,” he says. “I do. And if they can’t handle having the love of my life there, well then, we’ll leave.”

“The love of your life?” Draco pulls back to study Ron’s face, and blushes at what he sees there. He buries his face into the crook of Ron’s neck. “I love you, too,” he says. His heart hammers in his chest, because he realizes that he really, truly does love Ronald Bilius Weasley, one of his childhood nemeses.

They pack up the pumpkin pie that Draco had made from scratch, and the presents, and apparate to the Burrow where Molly quickly wraps Draco in a hug and kisses his cheek, and then smacks Ron on the back of the head, before pulling him into a quick hug. Draco isn’t sure what to make of that. It looks like it hurt, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“What was that for?” Ron asks, rubbing the spot where his mum had smacked him.

“That’s for not bringing your boyfriend over sooner,” she says, and then she cups Draco’s cheeks with her hands and sighs. “Welcome to the family, son.” She kisses him on the cheek, and Draco can feel heat rushing to his face. 

He hadn’t expected such a warm welcome from the family his own family had considered to be blood traitors. The Weasley-Malfoy feud had been a long-standing thing. Malfoy had anticipated being banned from the property. Instead, he’s warmly welcomed, and that makes him feel slightly wrong-footed.

Ron sputters, and blushes, and there’s no doubt in Draco’s mind that he’s hoping that Draco doesn’t want to turn tail and run. Ron needn’t worry about that, because for the first time in ever, Draco feels like he’s at home.

Molly pulls him into another hug, and Draco relaxes into it. He almost misses it when she pulls away and beckons him and Ron into her home. He can see where Ron gets his ability to give good, hearty hugs from.


	2. An Unexpected Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s only a stupid house elf, but Draco couldn’t stop a tear from falling when he learns of Miggy’s death. His mother tells him of it in a matter-of-fact manner, as though Miggy hadn’t been there since Draco was born, and hadn’t cared for him through his formative years, like a parent. Thankfully Ron is there to pick up the pieces afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a major character death. This is an OC.

It’s only a stupid house elf, but Draco couldn’t stop a tear from falling when he learns of Miggy’s death. His mother tells him of it in a matter-of-fact manner, as though Miggy hadn’t been there since Draco was born, and hadn’t cared for him through his formative years, like a parent.

“Are you still dating that Weasley boy?” his mother asks, as though she hasn’t just delivered news that had rocked his world. She wipes away the single tear from Draco’s cheek and frowns at him.

“Yes, Mother,” he says. “We’re engaged now.”

“I see,” his mother says. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in trying to talk you out of this nonsense, is there?”

“No, Mother, there isn’t,” Draco says, angry and trying to hold back his temper, because his mother can’t help being who she is, and there’s no use in expecting her to be devastated over a house elf’s death, or excited about Draco’s upcoming nuptials to a Weasley. 

The fact that he’s marrying a man isn’t the problem, it’s the bloodline that is, and it’s enough to make Draco sick. He can’t wait to return home to Ron, and escape his mother’s suffocating expectations of propriety, and decorum. Now that he’s seen what life is like at the Weasleys, and how free everyone is with their emotions, he doesn’t want to go back to the stifling life of a Malfoy.

“I suppose I’d better start a registry, and invite Mrs. Weasley ‘round for tea then,” his mother says, surprising him. “You’ll be having your fitting at Twilfitt and Tattings, I presume. I can set up something for Weasley if you’d like. And where is the reception being held?”

“The Burrow,” Draco says. He and Ron have already talked it over with the Weasleys, and he hopes that his mother won’t balk too much over it. She does purse her lips, and sigh.

“Very well, we can have the ceremony here, then,” she says, and Draco opens his mouth to protest, because they’ve already looked into a venue for their wedding, but one look at his mother’s face has him closing his mouth, and nodding.

“Thank you,” he says. 

“It’s the least I can do,” his mother says. “I know that your father and I haven’t always been supportive of your choices over the years, and I cannot say that I agree with your choice of marriage partner, but I can see that the Weasley boy has made you happy, and, unlike your father, I do care about your happiness more than I do protecting, and carrying on the family bloodline.”

Draco doesn’t tell his mother that he and Ron plan to have children through surrogacy. He’s not sure if she can handle that much shocking news in one afternoon. He knows he probably won’t be able to handle her reaction either, so he doesn’t say anything, and they finish their tea, and he returns home to find Ron waiting for him.

“How was your visit with your mum?”

It’s then that the dam is released, and Draco bursts into tears, which embarrasses him to no end. Malfoys don’t cry, least of all over silly, little house elves.

“That good, huh?” Ron says, and he wraps his arms around him, and holds him until the tears die down.

Being in Ron’s arms is home in a way that Malfoy manor never was, and never would be.


	3. Jellyfish Sting in Winter (the Honeymoon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honeymoons are not always without their faults. It's a good thing that Draco has Ron by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco swears. In his defense, jellyfish stings really hurt.

“Fuck!” Draco can’t help the explicative that escapes his mouth as he clutches at his leg. “Shit, fuck, holy fucking Merlin.”

“What’s wrong?” Ron swims over to him, and helps Draco hobble to the shore. 

Draco’s leg is covered in bubbling, red welts and it fucking hurts. He also can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes, because this hurts worse than a stinging hex, or anything else he’s experienced before and he’s half certain that he’s dying. 

“We should get you to a hospital,” Ron says. The freckles on his skin stand out starkly against his pale skin. 

Draco wants to protest, because he doesn’t want to spend the second day of their honeymoon at the hospital, but the pain is too great, so he nods. A lifeguard runs in their direction just as Ron is about to apparate them to the nearest mediwizard facility, and Draco is unable to follow the conversation that Ron and the lifeguard have, because he’s too focused on how fucking painful the stinging of his leg is.

“Hold on,” Ron says, his voice close to Draco’s ear as he wraps his arms around him from behind, and holds him. “The lifeguard is going to take care of you, and then we’re returning to the hotel where I can take care of you.”

In spite of the pain, which, with the lifeguard’s ministrations, is starting to lessen, Draco likes the sound of Ron taking care of him, so he bites his lip and nods. It’s all he can do as the lifeguard removes what looks like a half a dozen needles from his leg, and then pours something clear over the area that dulls the pain of the sting.

“Does that feel better?” Ron asks. 

Draco nods, and he rests in Ron’s arms, letting the exchange of words between his new husband and the lifeguard wash over him. Now that he’s no longer in excruciating pain, he can appreciate the feel of Ron’s muscles against his back, and take comfort in the fact that Ron is his. Forever.


	4. Family Obligations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Draco really wishes his father was more present in his life, and then there are times like these.

“Your father wants to change the will,” is the first thing his mother says when he steps into the foyer of the manor. She’d invited him over for tea, and now he knows that she’d really invited him over to ambush him.

“I see,” Draco says, his throat feels tight, and he wishes that Ron had been able to accompany him, but he’d had to work at the ministry that day, something that they’d been arguing over for the past month. 

Ron’s overtime as the Aurors hunt down a former Death Eater makes it difficult for them to even see each other half the time, and Draco misses Ron on the nights he’s not able to come home. He can’t sleep, because he’s too worried for Ron’s safety.

“Don’t worry,” his mother says, patting him on the hand, her mouth tightening when she touches his wedding band. “I will not let him leave you penniless. You’re my son, too.”

He’s not sure if he should thank his mother, or tell her to sod off. He opts for something milder, and offers her a smile. He hasn’t seen his father in years, and isn’t sure that he wants to. Every time his mother invites him over, his father is conveniently absent. He’d had business to attend to on the day of Draco’s wedding. It’s probably better that way.

“Speaking of which,” his mother says, when Draco doesn’t rise to the bait. And he’s certain that she told him of his father’s wishes just to get a rise out of him. “Would you and Ron prefer the cottage home in Paris, or our summer home in Brighton? Both are mine, and I’ve tired of them. And I was thinking that it would do you both some good to get out of that cramped little flat you’ve been staying in.”

“We’re fine there, Mother,” Draco says. There’s tightness in his chest, and it’s getting hard to breathe. “It’s cozy, and it’s in a good location.” It’s within easy walking distance of Muggle and Wizarding shops alike (not something he’ll tell his mother). There’s a park nearby, and they’ve got a cat that they’d rescued from a nearby alley. He likes it, Ron likes it, and the thought of moving to Paris or Brighton makes Draco want to throw himself out of a window.

“Keep an open mind, dear,” she says. “That’s all I ask.”

“I will,” Draco promises. He wonders if his father’s in the house, lurking and listening in on their conversation, or if he’s completely vacated the place so that he wouldn’t have to see his son at all.

“Your father loves you,” his mother says, as though she’s read his mind. He’s not looking her in the eye, so he knows she’s not used legilimency on him, but his breath still catches in his throat, and he sits up straighter. 

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” Draco bites out before he can stop himself.

“He’s just old fashioned in his ways,” his mother says. 

“You mean stubborn and prejudiced,” Draco says. “If he wants to cut me off, and take away the Malfoy name, I’ll gladly take on the Weasley name.”

His mother hisses, and shakes her head. “It will not come down to that, I’m sure.”

“I don’t care if it does,” Draco says, standing and pacing. “I’m so sick of all of this pretense. I feel like I’m walking into an intricately woven web every time I set foot in the manor, and I am so tired of it. If father wants to disown me, then so be it, Mother. I am in love with Ronald Weasley, and I love you, but if that isn’t enough for either of you, then I choose what I have with Ron, because at least with him and his family, I know exactly what I’m walking into when I cross the threshold of their home.”

“Please, spare me the dramatics, Draco. Obviously that Weasley boy’s temper has rubbed off on you,” his mother says, gesturing for him to sit down. “It was merely an offer. You and your young man can have the estates at Cornwall.”

Draco opens his mouth to protest, but his mother holds up a hand, and he clamps his mouth shut. He’s reminded of when he was five and he’d dared to disagree with the color of his bed hangings (he’d wanted red, and his mother insisted on silver and green; he’d lost that battle, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to lose this battle, too).

“Make your Mother happy, Draco,” his father’s voice precedes him, and Draco stands at attention when his father enters the room. 

“Take a seat, son. No need to stand on my account,” his father says, and if Draco didn’t know any better (he does, though), he’d almost think that his father was being sincere. His father, even more than his mother, stands on ceremony, and he likes a good obedient son act.

Draco bites his tongue and sat. He shoots a glare at his father, though, for good measure.

His father laughs. “It does seem as if the Weasley family has indeed rubbed off on you some,” he says as he takes a seat beside Draco’s mother, and holds out his hand for her to grasp. “Good,” he adds.

Draco’s jaw twitches, and he bunches his hands into fists in his lap. If his father thinks that he is going to get away with insulting Draco’s in-laws while Draco sits there like an obedient puppet, he’s got another think coming. 

“Relax, Son,” his father says, pointedly looking at Draco’s hands, and Draco quickly smoothes out his robes with hands that shake. “I cannot say that I am thrilled with your choice in marital alliances, or in your choosing to dwell in an area of London that is known for its intermingling with Muggles, but I do love you. Make no mistake about that.”

Draco wants to believe his father, after all the man did switch alliances at the end of the war to help Draco, but his absence from Draco’s wedding, and subsequent visits to his mother have spoken volumes of their own. He knows this is nothing more than a manipulation of some kind, and a look at his mother’s face confirms his suspicions. His father is merely extending this olive branch at Draco’s mother’s request. 

“I understand, Father,” Draco says. And he does. This gesture is not his father accepting him, and his life choices, rather it’s his father giving in to Draco’s mother’s wishes, and making an effort for her sake, which is admirable, Draco supposes.

“Good, you and your husband will be having us over for tea once you’ve settled into the Cornwall property?” his mother frames it as a question, but Draco knows it isn’t. He nods, and his mother smiles, and his father grins politely.

It’s another two hours before Draco is able to extricate himself from his childhood home, and he’s so happy Ron is home when he gets there, because he doesn’t need to say anything before Ron embraces him. 

When he’s gotten himself under control he rants and raves about the place in Cornwall, and his parents’ interfering in their lives, and Ron listens and nods, stands to hold Draco when he starts to tremble. He doesn’t interject, doesn’t offer to fix anything. He just listens, and when Draco’s finished venting, he kisses him.

“So, I take it we’re moving to Cornwall in the near future?” he says. He doesn’t sound angry about it, or resigned. He almost sounds excited.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says. “I can--”

“What, go back and break up with your parents?” Ron asks, pffting at the idea. “It might be good to get out of the city for awhile. We can’t exactly raise kids in this flat, and I’ve heard that Cornwall has an up and coming Quidditch team.”

“You’d really move, for me?” Draco asks, searching his husband’s eyes for any deception, though he knows he doesn’t really have to, because Ron, like every Gryffindor before him, wears his heart on his sleeve.

“That, and to make your parents squirm,” Ron says, teasing. 

“I love you,” Draco says. 

“I know,” Ron says, pulling Draco close and kissing him. “I love you, too.”


	5. There's No Good News that Comes at 3 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron's the one who's hurt, but Draco's the one having a hard time coping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that deals with a permanent injury.

Draco’s in the middle of tossing and turning when the Floo roars to life, and he’s jolted from a nightmare in which his father is cursing Ron, while Draco’s mother is dangling him from the ceiling like a spider caught in a web. It’s a ridiculous dream, but Draco reaches for Ron, only to remember why he’s tossing and turning in the first place, Ron’s with Harry and a team of Aurors, going after their latest criminal of the day. 

He mutters a curse, and checks the time. It’s three in the morning, and Ron’s side of the bed is still empty. His heart jumps into his throat when it isn’t Ron’s voice that he hears, but Harry’s. 

“Draco?” Harry pops his head into the bedroom, eyes closed. 

“What is it, Potter?” Draco says a little peevishly. He’s gathering his robe around himself, and is half terrified and half angry. 

“Did you two stop off at the pub before heading home again?” 

That has happened a handful of times, and while Ron is a cheerful drunk, Draco does not relish the thought of dealing with the singing and the inevitable bout of puking that will happen before his husband passes out on the bed and snores loud enough to take down the house.

“No,” Harry says, and he’s biting his lip. He looks paler than usual, and there’s a bruise on his cheek. 

Draco’s breath hitches in his chest, and tears prick at his eyes. He shakes his head, and runs a trembling hand through his hair. “No,” he says. “No.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry says, hitting himself in the forehead. “It’s not that, he’s fine, or well, he will be fine. He’s at St. Mungo’s. I’m here to take you to him.”

Draco wants to throttle Harry, but he clenches his jaw and slams the door in Harry’s face and gets dressed in record time. He doesn’t notice that his shoes don’t match, and that he’s wearing the gaudy sweater that Molly Weasley had knit for him last Christmas. He barely registers the trip to the hospital, and only starts to notice the world around him once they are in the ward that Ron is being treated in, and Molly Weasley wraps him in one of her crushing hugs.

“He’s going to be alright,” she says, pulling back enough for Draco to breathe, but not letting go of him, which is good because Draco doesn’t think he could stay standing if she let him go.

“What happened?” His voice is trembling and he’s shaking, and this is his worst nightmare come to life.

“Sectumsempra,” Harry whispers, and Draco can feel the blood drain from him. He remembers that curse all too well, he remembers how much it had hurt, and the damage it had done, how he almost died.

“How bad is it?” he asks. 

“They’re hoping they can save his leg,” Arthur says. He rests a hand on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco can’t stop the tears from falling, because this can’t be happening. Not now, not after everything they’d been through during and after the war.

“And if they can’t?” Draco asks once he’s gotten himself under control. 

He realizes, belatedly, that at some point in time, Molly and Arthur had wrangled him into a seat, and he has no idea when that happened. Molly’s arm is around him on one side, and Arthur’s on the other, and the other Weasleys are pacing the floor of the waiting room.

Harry looks completely devastated, sitting opposite Draco. Ginny’s holding his hand, whispering to him, petting his hair. Draco feels a stab of anger, that is quickly swallowed up by pity and a begrudging empathy, because, like it or not, Harry and Ron have been friends longer than Ron and Draco have been married, and this is hard on Harry, too. No doubt Harry had witnessed the act.

“We’ll help Ron make it through this,” Arthur says. “He won’t be alone.”

“Neither will you, dear,” Molly says, squeezing him. “You’ve got us for as long as you need us.”

It’s comforting, and Draco knows that the Weasleys mean what they say. They aren’t anything like his own parents, all about lip service, and providing money in the place of solid help. 

“Thank you,” Draco says in a choked voice.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s going to be okay,” Molly assures him, pulling him into a hug that eases some of his nerves, and gives him hope for whatever lies ahead.

“Mr. Malfoy-Weasley?” a mediwizard asks, and Draco clears his throat. He stands with the help of Molly and Arthur.

“Yes?”

“He’s made it through surgery okay,” the mediwizard says, but the look on his face has the color draining from Draco’s, and his knees buckling. “Unfortunately, we were not able to save the leg, however...”

The rest of what the mediwizard has to say is drowned out by a high buzzing sound that takes over Draco’s senses, and the world disappears for a while. He’s aware, as though everything is happening to someone else, of being moved, and held, and then he’s in Ron’s room, and his husband is smiling and talking, and Draco wonders how he can be so fucking happy when he’s just lost his leg.

“Ron,” Draco’s lips barely move, and he doubts that he speaks very loud, yet Ron turns his eyes toward him, and Draco can see that Ron’s cheerful demeanor is just an act, and it pains him, but he offers Ron a weary smile, and makes his way over to him. Ron draws him into a hug, and Draco whispers, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron says. “I know you wanted me to quit, and I should have.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Draco assures him. “I love you, and I’ll help you through this.”

Nothing more needs to be said right now. Molly pulls Draco into another hug, and somehow manages to capture Ron in it as well. Warmth spreads through Draco and he knows that, in spite of the dire circumstances, things will work out, Ron will eventually be okay, and they will move on from this. Life will go on, and they’ll make a way.


	6. Sometimes Too Much Joy Can Lead to Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overjoyed at the birth of their daughter, it's Ron who needs a hug.

Draco’s overcome with joy when he sets eyes on little Rose for the first time. She’s perfect from her thick thatch of red hair, to her ten tiny toes that look like little pearls. She’s the spitting image of Ron, with a touch of Hermione (their surrogate). 

Ron seems to be holding his breath, and he stops just short of reaching into the crib to pick up their baby girl. His eyes well with tears, and he looks toward Draco. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to break her,” he confesses in a quiet, awe-filled voice. He’s gripping the edge of the crib so tightly that his knuckles are white, and he’s trembling.

“What if I screw this up?” he asks Draco. 

“You’ve got me by your side,” Draco reminds him, bumping their shoulders together. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you screw our daughter up.”

“She’s just so tiny,” Ron says. “And so perfect.”

“She is,” Draco agrees. He’s the first to reach into the crib and pull their daughter out, cradling her the way that the mediwitch had taught him. She’s light, and his heart flips when her lips purse, and her fingers open and close on nothing.

“Here,” Draco says, trying, and failing to place their daughter in Ron’s arms.

Ron is shaking his head, and backing away, his magical prosthetic leg bumping into the rocking chair that Draco’s mother had gifted them with (which had been a pleasant surprise). His parents are due to visit the following month, and Draco hopes that their visit will go smoothly, that they will let bygones be bygones, and see Rose Hermione Weasley-Malfoy as their grandchild.

“I’d better sit down,” Ron says, gesturing toward his fake leg. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Draco asks, and Ron reluctantly plops himself down into the rocking chair. 

Draco passes their daughter over to Ron, and he’s stiff and awkward, and Draco pulls him into his arms, offering him the type of support Ron often offers him, their daughter safe and secure between the two of them. 

“Relax,” Draco whispers. “You’re not going to break her.”

Ron swallows, and when Draco pulls back to look at his husband, Ron’s eyes are wide, and panicked. Draco smiles and shakes his head. He runs his hand through Ron’s hair, and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Hold her like this,” Draco says, repositioning Rose in Ron’s arms, so that her head and neck are supported, and so that Ron can lean back in the chair. “There, you go.”

He wishes he has a camera to capture the look of pure awe that crosses Ron’s face when their daughter’s hand catches on Ron’s shirt and grips it tight. Ron’s eyes roam Rose’s face, taking in every detail, and he runs a finger across her downy brow.

“She’s so delicate,” he says in a whisper.

“She’s just like you,” Draco says, kneeling in front of the two loves of his life, and embracing them. Even if his mother and father don’t come to terms with the life that he’s made with Ron, Draco’s heart is full. This -- Ron, Rose, and the Weasleys -- is his family, and he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
